


Shared Sorrow

by Texan_Red_Rose



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Texan_Red_Rose/pseuds/Texan_Red_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne Possible has gone looking for answers in the only place she thinks she can find them. A different takes on the events of 'So The Drama' and probably not what you're thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own _Kim Possible_.

Dr. Anne Possible turned the page, reading the psychiatrist's notes on the final 'episode', her fingers slightly trembling. Finally, blue eyes slightly misted over with unshed tears looked up at the woman herself, a hundred thousand thoughts flickering through her mind before she finally settled on a single question, the words almost muffled by a choked back sob.

"Why?"

"It is my firm belief, Dr. Possible," the woman spoke slowly, keeping her composure as her heart went out the mother seated across from her. "That she honestly feels deep sorrow and regret for what she did. This is her way of taking back her actions, of attempting to make amends."

"Aliens? An invasion?" Anne looked down at the heavy stack of papers in her hand, the neatly typed words holding a whole other universe. One she was beginning to long for as earnestly as the person who created it.

"I realize the events might seem farfetched by normal standards," the psychiatrist spread her hands. "But what you are holding is the creation of her subconscious. I believe the presence of these 'Lowardians' represent outside events that she had no control of- events that shaped her future- the outcomes of which are vastly different from… reality."

"I… I don't understand," Anne raised her gaze from the papers, pages detailing the adventures of her daughter and best friend had she… The redhead firmly pushed the thought from her mind; she didn't come here to feel the sorrow, the pain, she came her for closure.

"I believe the first instance represents her wish that things had been different between herself and your daughter. As you read, rather than allow the alien to kill Kimberly, Shego acts to save her-"

"I didn't read that," Anne's brow furrowed, anger bubbling within her at the mention of that name. "She doesn't _say_ she wanted to 'save' my daughter. Just that she didn't want someone else doing her job."

"Dr. Possible, please," the psychiatrist's composure was starting to wear on the neurosurgeon. "I ask you to remember that we are talking about the fragile and divided psyche of a deeply troubled young woman-"

"No, we are talking about the delusions of my daughter's murderer," Anne felt the sudden urge to throw the papers- the stack of lies- in her hands at the doctor across from her, professional courtesy be damned. "Where is she?"

"In solitary lock down; a condition of her surrender," the psychiatrist didn't seem the least bit disturbed by Anne's anger. In fact, the redhead got the distinct impression she was being analyzed like any other patient.

"I want to talk to her," the words came easily, though it wasn't what she planned on saying. When she first contacted Dr. Betty Director about speaking to someone who understood the motivations behind her daughter's murder- anyone at all who could possibly give her insight- Anne Possible hadn't even thought about talking to the murderer directly. But now, after reading all the fantasies Shego had written, ones where her daughter not only survived that fateful night atop Bueno Nacho Headquarters but went on to enjoy a romance with her best friend, Ron Stoppable, she _needed_ to look the woman in the eye.

"I don't think-"

"I don't give a damn what you think." Professional courtesy was gone now. She was no longer a neurosurgeon talking to a fellow medical professional about the flip side of an organ she'd devoted her entire adult life to studying; she was simply a mother who wanted answers, ones that came from the source of her grief. "You're going to let me talk to that woman or I'll raise enough Hell to get admitted here myself."

They stared each other down for the longest time, what felt like hours. Slowly, the psychiatrist reached for her phone, hitting a single button and allowing the device to ring on speakerphone. When a gruff voice answered, she spoke calmly, that same infuriating composed voice she'd used throughout their meeting.

"Please move Patient Four-One-Three to an interview room."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As the line went dead, the psychiatrist stood and walked around her desk, heading towards the door without so much as glancing at the redhead. "If you'll please follow me."

Anne stood and followed the lab coated woman, still clutching the papers. She came here for answers and now she felt like she was finally going to get them. In her mind's eye, she could still see Shego the proud villainess, taunting herself and Kimberly atop a train on a Mother's Day long, long ago. Painted black lips pulled into a mocking smirk, voice edged with condescension, long black hair being whipped about her by the wind; it was the same image that came to mind when the authorities arrived to deliver the news that Kim had died.

Died by electrocution from being kicked into a communications tower- the impact of that same tower falling on her was just overkill.

They walked for miles it seemed before stopping in front of an unassuming door with no window and a glowing red key-card reader, guarded by two stoic guards.

"She is fully restrained, so you should have no fear of her harming you. There are armed guards watching the video feeds; if she becomes aggressive, we will come in and restrain her," with a swipe of her key-card, the door blinked green and unlocked. "Go in whenever you like."

Hesitation was brief, a fleeting thought before Anne's hand turned the knob and pushed the door open, allowing it to close after she entered the room. There, sitting in a chair in an orange jumpsuit and bulky wrist restraints, was the woman who killed her daughter. There sat Shego.

There was a moment, though, that Anne didn't recognize the woman. Certainly there weren't enough green skinned people to mistake one for another but still, the person sitting in that chair looked nothing like the image she'd come to associate with her daughter's murder. There were dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks sunken as though eating hadn't been a priority for quite some time, and her long, silken hair was frayed and tangled. Faint scars littered her visible skin, the locations as telling as the scars as to the wounds' intention. There was no smirk, no gloating, and when emerald eyes lifted to regard the room's newest occupant, they were hollow and glazed over for the briefest of moments. Then they shone- vividly- from recognition before pain and sorrow flashed through them, the orbs seeking something- anything- else to focus on.

And just like that, some of Anne's anger melted away. "Do you know why I'm here?" Her voice sounded far too even for her liking, as if she was in surgery and asking the nurse to pass her a scalpel.

"Hopefully, to kill me, but I don't think I'm that lucky," Shego replied, a heavy weight to her voice. It sounded thick from disuse or perhaps from a sore throat; either way, it wasn't the tone Anne had heard ringing in her ears for the past year. "So no… I don't."

Anne effortlessly tossed the papers onto the table, not bothering to take the chair opposite the green skinned woman. The loud thus their landing produced drew Shego's attention briefly before she averted her gaze to stare at her lap.

"Oh… that…" her voice was tight, pained, restrained, as though she were holding back tears.

Anne knew that feeling. "Why?"

Silence prevailed for a long while, longer than it had ruled over Anne and the psychiatrist when she made the demand to see Shego. When Shego finally spoke, the pain remained but the restraint fled, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"Because I want to take it back… b-because I wish it was me… b-because I-I-" her voice broke, her posture broke, her world broke. Shego slumped into her chair and began shaking, fighting to get out her words through the pain, the sorrow, the guilt. "I w-wish she wa-as happy."

Anne let Shego cry for a moment longer before she spoke, her voice soft. Despite her anger, her pain, Anne could see the woman sitting before her was in pain too. "Not that."

A few more sobs drifted through the air before Shego gathered the courage to raise her gaze to the redhead still standing before her, sniffling and fighting to control herself. "Th-then what?"

"I want you to tell me…" Anne's voice was soft but measured, her hands clenching into fists as a single tear drifted down her cheek. "… why you killed my daughter."

For the second time, Shego broke, but there were no tears this time, no heavy sobs. Just the weight of guilt and pain shattering her posture, the images seared into her mind haunting her eyes as she spoke.

"I never meant to kill her… I was just angry… we were so close that time and I thought-" she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, tears still managing to leak out. Anne had expected it- this was the furthest the psychiatrist had gotten- but she wasn't going to let the green skinned woman stop.

"You thought what?"

Shego forced her eyes open, forced herself to look Anne in the eyes, to admit the truth she'd held onto for a year. "I thought… she… thought I was a failure… and I thought… if we succeeded just _once_ that… she'd… like me."

Anne blinked; she wasn't surprised by the admission, just the fact that Shego actually said it. The moment the last word left her mouth, Shego returned her gaze to her lap.

"She always looked at Drakken like he was a joke… and I worked for him, so what did that make me? And we were… so close and then… and then, we failed again, and she was just standing there, smiling…"

"But you didn't mean to kill her," it wasn't a question, merely a reiteration of what Shego had said before, but the seated woman nodded anyway.

"That super suit… I thought the force field thing would activate on its own… it-it didn't even occur to me- I just wanted to win- I wanted to impress her- I wanted-" Shego stopped, tears streaming down her face once more. "But I didn't. I killed her. God, why couldn't it have been me?"

"Do you think she would've killed you, if the tables were turned?" Anne made a gesture towards the papers still on the table, though Shego didn't see. "That says you would've survived."

"Kimmie was always better than me… she wouldn't have killed me," Shego lifted her gaze again, emerald eyes glossed over by tears, her nose running, lips trembling. "No matter how badly I deserve it."

They held each other's gaze- emerald to blue- until Anne stepped forward and broke the spell. To Shego's credit, she didn't flinch or cringe, but rather simply hung her head. She did flinch, though, when two arms wrapped around her.

"Sitting in here, wishing you were dead… it insults my daughter's memory, you know that?" Anne's voice was soft but firm, the threat of tears affecting only her eyes for some reason. "I could be angry with you if you didn't feel bad, if you were proud of it. I might even hate you…"

"You should," Shego sobbed, trembling in the redhead's embrace. Her hands still restrained, she couldn't return the embrace even if she wanted to, and Anne thought the idea had crossed the other woman's mind. Ignoring her addition, Anne continued, tears falling down her cheeks to land in raven locks as she rested her chin atop Shego's head.

"Kimmie would've wanted you to do something productive with your life. You cut hers short, out of anger, this much is true… but sitting here and wishing you were dead, she wouldn't want that," Anne sighed, looking to the papers on the tables. "You should have that published… earn a legitimate living, do something with your life. Make her proud."

"I-I can't," Shego shook her head violently. "She'd- she'd never-"

"Shut up, Shego," Anne pulled away, looking down at her daughter's murderer. While nothing would change that fact- that night- the redhead made a decision in that moment, looking into reddened, puffy emerald eyes. "I forgive you, Shego. I forgive you for what you did."

"You- you what?" Shego pulled back, tried to fight Anne's embrace, but couldn't in her weakened state. "I-I killed your-"

"I know what you did, Shego, and I'll never forget it. I can't forgive you for the year you've wasted, sitting in a cell, wishing you were dead," Anne took a deep breath and somehow managed to smile. "But I can forgive you for making a mistake, and I can even accept your grief and your pain. But at the end of the day, you're still alive and Kimmie's not."

Shego nodded, sniffling loudly as she tried to compose herself.

"Because of that, as her mother, I'm going to ask you to do one thing for me," Anne waited until the other woman nodded. "I'm going to ask you to live your life. Live your life because Kimmie _can't_. Can you do that?"

For a long time, the green skinned woman just stared at the redhead. Slowly she nodded before abruptly stopping and voicing her answer, her voice thick from crying. "Y-yeah, I can… I can do that."

**Author's Note:**

> Shego's patient number- 413- is the production code for episode "Stop Team Go". Based on the (extremely drunken) post I made in one of Aulipheron's challenges over on the Haven, which basically said that all of Season 4 was just a series of delusions made up by Shego because she can't accept the fact that she kicked Kim into the tower during STD.


End file.
